from the London Free Press: Ontario bill ends censoring of films

there are songs that just perfectly fit the morning you’re having? or trying to have? well, this morning it was “Teddy Roosevelt’s Guns” by A Silver Mt. Zion.

MyMusic buggered up my order last week, so I still haven’t listened to the new Sleater-Kinney disc. I’ve since re-ordered it, but it just shipped today so it’ll be at least Thursday before it arrives. Dangit.

By the way, I’m addicted to poker. Not playing it, watching it.

Someone near my desk has a quote on their whiteboard that reads, “You are what you think about.”

So I’m Salma Hayek and an order of butter chicken then.

Communal kitchen equipment is just scary. I swear, the toaster oven in my office kitchen should have a biohazard warning.

Gah. I’m glad this didn’t happen when TimmyD and I went to BodyWorlds in London a few years ago.

Well, it looks like Phoenix is gonna get smoked by San Antonio, so my wished-for matchup of Suns-Heat isn’t likely. As I type this Miami is about to go up 2-1 in their series against the Pistons, so even that’s not a lock just yet, but I’m betting on the Heat.

Shaq-Duncan. Wade-Bowen. Jones-Ginobli. Yeah, I’d pay to see that.

There’s some twat on the street below my apartment, dressed in a black leather trenchcoat and black leather hat, blasting “Say Hello” by April Wine out of his giant black pickup truck. It’s loud enough that I can hear it through my double-windows, over the TV, and he’s been thoughtful enough to leave the doors open so we can all enjoy it.

Five more minutes, I’m gonna start chuckin’ eggs.

My new Great Lake Swimmers disc has accomplished the rare feat of appealing to both myself and my mother-in-law.